


Nyarlathot’elf

by titC



Series: December 2016 - Month of Fluff! [5]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Elf on a Shelf, F/M, Lucifer caves whenever a Decker lady is involved, Oh Come All Ye Faithful Fic Exchange, The whole gang is here, compulsory cute piano scene, elfing around, everybody loves Trixie, fluff month, merry creepsmas, nice Douche, no one dies, poking fun at the devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9023371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: This is for the 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful' Secret Santa Fic Exchange.Some toys are scary (or the devil is a wuss)...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skaoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaoi/gifts).



> This is for the 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful' Secret Santa Fic Exchange.  
> Prompt given:"elf on a shelf"... thank you for making me aware of these monstrosities ;-)  
> I tried to follow the "no hurting anyone" part of your prompt!

 

The  _thing_ was watching him. Its creepy little eyes were not even looking ahead and yet it was following his movements, he was sure. Its old-fashioned haircut and long tentacle-y limbs and horrendous, garish clothes and WHAT THE ME there was another one. An offensively generic-brown-skinned one that looked like the first one’s twin had decided to do black-well, brown-ish-face. It was horrifying.

Lucifer wanted to avoid its stare by hugging the wall it was leaning against but he couldn’t also escape the second one’s smug little mug. How was he supposed to go to the Detective’s room before Christmas then? Maybe he should just climb through the window, but she’d  _know_ and she’d laugh at him and no, no way. He was the Devil, Satan, Prince of Darkness, King of Hell, Lord of Lies (but not a liar, thank you very much), yadda yadda yadda. Right? Right.

Time for a plan.

 

...Maybe it wasn’t the best plan ever, but he was on a tight schedule.

He watched the rugrats stream out of the school screaming and squealing and of course running, and braced himself for impact – oof.

“Hello, spawn.”

“Lucifer! Where’s Daddy?”

“Oh, he’s, ah.” He couldn’t tell her the truth, but he couldn’t tell the child her father had chosen work over her – which wasn’t entirely wrong, _per se_. After the first few seconds of open-mouthed, dumb surprise the douche had actually seemed grateful when Lucifer had asked if he could pick the child up. _Maze needs me to bring her something and the school is on the way_ , he’d said. Which wasn’t wrong either: she needed clothes, right? Even those she’d left in her former flat above Lux. “I thought we could work on something for your mother together.” There.

“Okay. Can we have cake first?”

“You can have devil’s food cake for dessert tonight if you help me with my secret project. Secret being a key word. Deal?” He held out his hand. It was never too early to instil good practice in young minds.

She grinned and shook on it, her pigtails bobbing. “Deal.”

 

Right. Now for explaining without divulging too much.

“So I need to hide a present in your mother’s room, but I don’t want her to find it quickly. Any advice? Better yet, can you do it for me?”

The little human blinked up at him. “Why don’t you hide it just before you want her to find it?”

“Well, ah. It’s only today that I can enlist your help, child.” He eyed the evil things – one on the fridge, one next to the TV.

“Are you scared of the elves?”

“What?”

“You’re looking at them all weird.”

“I am most definitely not.”

“So are.”

“Not.”

“So are.”

“Not.”

“You know, it’s ok. Daddy doesn’t like them either. He always has me turn them to face the wall.”

Something in common with the douche – the indignity. “Hm. Do you, or do you not want chocolate cake?”

“Lucifeeeeeeer – ”

“Fine, fine.” He handed her the box so she could store it in the fridge.

“Mommy says it’s a very expensive bakery.”

“Oh, the owner owes me a favour or two.”

“Uh huh.” The spawn sometimes sounded just like her mother – when the Detective looked up at him from behind her eyelashes, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth and her entire demeanour screaming _I’ve sussed you out, Lucifer Morningstar, you’re a cute, ridiculous and hilariously undevilish boyfriend but I’m keeping you anyway_. “Ew, you’re thinking about mom.” She giggled.

“Hm?” When he looked back at her she’d dragged a chair in front of the fridge.

“You’ve got that look on your face.” She clambered on the chair. Should he intervene? She wouldn’t fall, would she?

“What look?” She laid the evil thing flat on the top of the fridge, making it look as if it had slipped. Clever girl!

“That look.” She made a ridiculous face and sighed loudly and laughed so hard she almost toppled from the chair. Lucifer thought his heart would beat out of his chest – what would the Detective say if her daughter got hurt under his watch? He caught her and she latched on him with a very satisfied grin; and he wondered if she hadn’t faked it, the little hellion. He’d rather she didn’t wipe her shoes on the back of his jacket though.

“I do not have that look.”

“Yes you do.”

Oh dear. “Do not.”

“Do!” She clung to him so hard he couldn’t detach her.

“Fine. I do. Now the cake is in the fridge; you can’t renege on your deal.” He tried again to tug her away but she was a limpet, or maybe an octopus.

“Am not. I like hugs.”

“I just caught you before you could break a leg.”

“But now we’re hugging.” He shuddered. Were they? “You’re all big and warm like a giant teddy and you smell nice. That’s why mommy likes you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, she told me.”

Would wonders never cease? The Detective liked him because he was a life-size d hot-water bottle with cologne. He hadn’t thought he could fall any further after the first time, and yet here he was. He tried not to bury his nose in her dark hair when she put her head on his shoulder and failed utterly.

“Okay, now you can put me down.” Finally.

She ran to the TV and artfully arranged the creepy little bugger so it was half hidden behind the TV, and at least its face had disappeared. Much better. He could breathe again.

He looked down when she tugged on his sleeve. “If you want you can give me the present and I’ll put it in her room just before you want her to find it.” He raised an eyebrow and she thrust a hand at him. “Pinky swear!”

“No need. I trust you to keep your word, child. After all, we have a deal.”

“So what is it?”

He extracted an envelope from his inner pocket. “This.”

She looked a bit crestfallen. “You’re giving her some… paper?”

“But it’s a very important paper.”

“Maybe.” She still made a somewhat disappointed moue. “I hope I don’t get paper too.” She looked at him hard enough the meaning was very clear.

“I promise you won’t.” She looked mollified, and went to tuck the envelope in her schoolbag.

“You have to get her something else too.”

“Any ideas?” Who knows, maybe she’d have good ones. He already had a little mountain of things at his penthouse that he planned to gift, but… he was still looking for the perfect present. Not just a good one, but the _perfect_ one.

“Oooh, yes! Lots!”

 

And that’s how Chloe found them an hour later – the child half sprawled over him, tablet forgotten on the coffee table and his jacket dwarfing her.

“Hello,” she whispered.

“Detective.” He looked up at her, his warm brown eyes following her around. She hadn’t really noticed at first, how he always looked at her. She knew, now. Maze had mocked her mercilessly when she’d talked about it once – _you know, he_ watches _me. He always has, Decker. Everybody could see it but you. You can be really blind for a police officer_. And she’d blushed and stammered and Maze had rolled her eyes and ordered another beer.

“You know she won’t sleep tonight if she has a nap now.” She sat next to him, combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair.

“She’s only been asleep for a few minutes.” He looked down at her mouth, then back at her eyes – who would believe her if she told them he asked permission before kissing her?

“Ew,” said his lap.

Chloe laughed. “Well, monkey, that’s what you get for faking it.”

Trixie scrambled off, throwing his jacket over the arm of the couch and running to her room before rushing back to kiss her mom. “Lucifer is afraid of the elves too!” she stage-whispered before dodging his hands and hiding behind her door and crowing.

“Afraid of the elves, huh.”

“Of course not.”

“That’s why you had Trixie move them.”

“How...”

“The chair in front of the fridge.”

“...Ah.”

“She does it for Dan too.” He looked so disgruntled she couldn’t contain a little snicker. “You know, everyone hates them.”

“But then why have them? And why let them… reproduce?”

“Well, my mother likes them. She likes the story, I think.”

“The story?”

“Yeah, that they go to Santa every night to give a report on the family they’re in, and – ”

“they’re supposed to be creepy _spies_ , you mean?”

“Well, when you put it that way...”

“And Maze is fine with this?”

“Well, they’ve only been out since yesterday, I don’t think she’s seen them yet.”

“She’ll hate them. My demon won’t stand for an entire months of sinister cheer.”

“Maybe.” She sighed as he undid her bun and kissed her forehead. “I don’t think she’d take kindly to you calling her _your_ demon, though.”

“Hm. Sometimes I wish she still were, I could have her here to keep an eye on your daughter and whisk you to the penthouse to have my wicked way with you.”

_Honestly, I wouldn’t mind either_ , Chloe thought. “You’re working tonight anyway. But you can stay for dinner if you want to.”

He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I want pizza!” Trixie yelled from her room.

 

In the weeks leading to Christmas, Lucifer tried his best to ignore the evil little things, but it wasn’t easy, even with the spawn’s help. Finding out Maze didn’t care either way and wouldn’t have an unfortunate accident involving the disturbing dolls was a huge disappointment. He did put his foot down, however, on the day Chloe dragged him into her bedroom and he found himself face to face with  _it_ on the pillow. No. No way. This weekend the little human was with her father and he had the Detective to himself and he would  _not_ share her with this spindly-limbed monstrosity. He had her hide it in the child’s room while he sulked on the couch. Still, they kept reappearing where you didn’t expect them – he had to shave with one of them staring at him the morning after, unnerving and fixedly cheery. It  _made_ him nick his chin, he was sure.

Chloe only laughed at him and kissed it – kissed him better. He tried to manfully ignore their eerie presence and their thieving ways – who else could have stolen his favourite cuffs? He eyed them suspiciously but he never found their cache.

 

Lucifer watched the dancefloor-turned-dining room fill with people. The Detective and her daughter of course, Penelope who was as radiant as ever (although now he knew the elves were her doing he kept a wary eye on her), the douche and the grand-douches – well, he couldn’t let the spawn not have all her parents and grand-parents for Christmas, or at least that’s what Linda had said. He’d invited the good doctor too, because Maze had said she didn’t have family nearby and usually spent the holidays volunteering at a hospital. And then they’d learned there had been a huge freak snowstorm over Detroit and Ms Lopez’s flight was cancelled and here she was too, trying to convince Amenadiel to give up cosmos for something stronger. She was welcome to try, but he wouldn’t bet on her success.

He felt a hand slip under his jacket and go round his waist. “Found it this morning. You’re insane.”

He snaked an arm around her shoulders. They fit together just right. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s...” She squeezed him. “Lucifer, it’s too much!”

“No it’s not. You saved the building. You saved my home. It should have your name.” The Decker building. It did have a nice ring to it, didn’t it?

“And the rest!”

He fidgeted. “Yes, well. Merry Christmas.” It was just money, really. Was she refusing it? Oh no. “Are you refusing it?” He’d only bought the building in her name and had all the rents go into a trust fund for her and the spawn. What was it to him? Money, he had. Plenty.

“Well I… No. No, I can’t. Thank you.” She rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Let’s go down. My mother wants to thank you too.”

He followed her down the stairs, keeping an eye on things – had everyone a full glass in hand? How were the stocks? Maze gave him a thumbs-up. But what about the appetizers? Should he go back to the kitchen and prepare some more? He ought to check on…

“Lucifer! Thank you for inviting us here. Chloe told me what you d...”

“Aaah, Penelope! How delightful to have you here!” Taking her hands in his, he twirled her around and toward the douche. Let _him_ deal with his former in-law. “Daniel, I hope you’re not planning on sleeping with anyone’s mother toda – ouch, Detective, what was that for?”

She smiled sweetly up at him – too sweetly. “Oh, nothing. Thank you for your present, mom. I’m sure it’ll have pride of place here.”

“Yes, thank you for…” No. _No_. “What in the name of…?”

There, above the bar, was one of  _them_ . “They’re so cute and cheerful, I thought it would add some proper Christmas spirit to your club. It’s not very family-oriented usually, is it?” The Detective’s mother looked way too happy with herself. At least the douche looked as uncomfortable as Lucifer felt.

“Well, Lucifer did a good job in a short time to make it so.” Oh no, he was trying to be nice. He hated it when the douche did that.

“Yes, well, I felt it would be more convenient than the Detective’s flat. More room, you know.” And it had been free from the evil-eyed things until now.

Well. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, especially when the Detective had looked at him with with her eyes so… so…  _with her eyes_ , when he’d suggested it. But now, he had to escape – the douche, Penelope and the beady, empty, squinty,  _family-friendly_ surveillance of the imp. Maze waved at him from the corridor to the kitchen.

“Ah! I’m needed elsewhere, if you’ll excuse me.”

She may not be  _his_ demon anymore, but she was still his favourite.

 

It was a good thing none of his usual customers could see him now, he’d lose all his mojo. Here he was, Satan himself, shirtsleeves rolled up yet not a cigarette in sight, a ten-year-old child doing her best to make him deaf as she belted out Christmas classics from beside him on the piano bench, a paper hat perched on his head – at least it was red. She’d insisted, and the Detective had been narrowing her eyes at him, and how could he refuse?

Maze was, of course, a traitor and was recording everything and he was sure Ms Lopez and the douche were planning to spread his humiliation through the precinct given the way they snickered at their phones after taking pictures.

Thankfully, the child was winding down, and after a few more minutes she was listing against him and he had to wrap an arm around her to keep her on the bench. The Detective would not be happy if he let her slide down to the floor, but it had to be said it made playing the piano that much harder. He segued into quieter, softer songs as her breathing evened out, soft and warm on the skin of his arm.

“You’re good with her, you know. I should hate you for it.”

Lucifer smiled, eyes on the keys. “You can hate me for many other things.”

“I don’t hate you. But she still loves her dad better.”

He raised his arm and let the douche take the child away, his left hand still playing. “He’s not that bad.”

“Better than yours, from what I hear.”

“There’s that.”

“Yeah. So.” Couldn’t they be done with the touchy-feely moment already? “Thanks for today. I’ll see you around.” Finally.

The douche left with his parents and the child, who was probably already dreaming of her other Christmas tomorrow with the rest of her dad’s family. He took the paper hat off with a relieved sigh. At last.

Soon after their departure, everyone else followed. Maze dragged Linda and Ms Lopez along to, probably, more alcohol and gossip somewhere, maybe some knife-throwing (they’d discovered the good Doctor was surprisingly good at darts, and Maze had decided to up her skills) or drunken puzzle-solving (it was, apparently, a thing). Penelope talked for a minute with the Detective while sneaking glances at him that he tried to ignore, before coming to lean against the piano.

“I’d rather not see someone who is supposed to spend a lot of time with my daughter and my granddaughter drink so much, but otherwise you’ll do. For now.”

She pecked him on the cheek and left. He hoped she hadn’t left any lipstick.

Fabric rustled next to him. “Well, everybody’s gone now.”

He turned his head to kiss the Detective’s shoulder. “Not quite.”

“Ah, well. Your brother’s dead to the world.”

“At least he’s not snoring.”

“He’s such a lightweight, for a big guy.”

“M’not,” Amenadiel grumbled. Lucifer turned away from the piano.

“Aw, bro. You can sleep it off here.”

“Don’t you have a cleaning crew coming in?”

“Tomorrow morning, yes. I guess we can drag him to Maze’s old flat.”

Amenadiel sort of righted himself with a groan, his forearms flat on the table, and blinked for a few seconds. And screamed.

The Detective’s hand flew to her side, but she didn’t have her gun.

“Ah, sorry. Wasn’t...” Amenadiel waved his hand. “...expecting that.”

Lucifer glared at the evil-eyed creepy Santa spy above the bar. “It’s like the Spanish Inquisition.”

“...What?”

But the Detective chuckled, and he counted it a win.

“I’ll show you, you oaf. Someone has to teach you these things.”

“You know, I’m glad to see you not fighting. It’s nice.”

“Well, Luci is very good at getting on everyone’s nerves; but I wouldn’t do anything to make a family holiday uncomfortable for you, Chloe.”

Oh, he hated it when the big lug used her name. And talked about family. “Can we take this thing down, now? Your mother’s gone.”

“We can’t throw it away, though. She’ll want to see it again next year.” He smiled. Next year. Then remembered the beginning of her sentence.

“But...”

There was a rumbling sound and a bolt of lightning, and the sound of something hitting the floor. All three stared at the scorch mark above the bar.

“I guess even your father hates the elf on a shelf.”

Thank god.


End file.
